


Of Office Parties and Bored Office Workers

by voiddreams



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Office, Christmas Party, Mentioned Beelzebub (Good Omens), Mentioned Gabriel (Good Omens), Office Party, Pre-Relationship, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29863728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiddreams/pseuds/voiddreams
Summary: Prompt: "Trapped Together"Crowley is stuck at a boring office party when he spots someone looking similarly trapped and decides to make some conversation.My brain apparently doesn't *quite* get the point of 'flash fiction' so this is a bit longer than I think it was supposed to get, but I kept it under a thousand so it's *fine*.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Of Office Parties and Bored Office Workers

Crowley was pretty sure there was a special place in hell for whoever invented office parties.

He looked out across the floor, occupied by awkward employees and a large, “Merry Christmas!” sign. Honestly, they hadn’t even bothered to decorate beyond some tinsel haphazardly stapled over doorways - management’s idea, most likely - and a couple dumb Christmas-themed posters -  _ definitely _ IT’s fault.

After a moment of scanning the room for someone looking as bored as he was, his eyes caught on a man - probably about his age, with white, curly hair and a truly  _ awful _ Christmas sweater that marked him as one of Gabriel’s underlings. There were many cons of working under Beez, but at least ze had the decency to not force them to do more than be present.

The man was pulling himself away from a conversation with two other sweater-clad workers that Crowley didn’t know, giving an awkward laugh before nearly bolting over to the drink stand where Crowley was lurking.

“Well, that looked like it went well,” he remarked as the man slid into the next seat over.

“I - excuse me?”

Crowley flicked his hands toward the man’s coworkers. “Must’ve been a thrilling conversation, from how desperate you looked to escape.”

“Oh.” He seemed to deflate a bit, and Crowley felt a pang of guilt. Then immediately wondered why it was making him feel bad. “I had terribly hoped it wouldn’t be  _ that _ obvious.”

“Nnnnh. You’re fine, doubt they noticed. I’m just nosy, s’all.”

“Well, that’s good.” One of the people manning the drink bar came up and the man, after a moment’s consideration, ordered the one decent wine on the list. “I know it’s rather rude of me, but well. They were just talking on and on about  _ spreadsheets _ , of all things. And the  _ weather _ .”

Crowley scoffed. “The weather? The  _ weather _ ? It’s been clear skies for the past week! How the bloody hell are they making conversation about the weather?”

“I know! Just, ‘oh, it’s supposed to snow tonight, you know’ and ‘really? I didn’t think -’” He cut himself off, a sheepish expression on his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t really complain -”

“Nah, it’s fine. Gotta let it out sometimes, right…”

“Zira.”

“Gotcha. I’m Anthony, but just call me Crowley.”

Zira smiled, a small, bright little grin, and  _ oh no _ Crowley was going to be in trouble. He debated making some excuse to walk off, but instead crossed one leg over his knee and leaned forwards. “So, Zira,” he said, leaning back. “Since we’re both trapped here until further notice, and the others here have shown  _ exactly _ how exciting their conversation is, how about we talk about something else?”

“Like what?” Zira said, taking a small sip of his drink.

“Don’t care. You pick. As long as it isn’t work.”

He seemed to hesitate, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “Anything? I’m afraid I can get boring rather quickly…”

“Aw, c’mon, you can’t  _ possibly _ be worse than Mr. and Mrs. ‘Let’s Discuss Spreadsheets at a Party’ over there.”

“Well, if you’re sure… are you familiar with any of Shakespeare’s works?”

Half an hour later, and the party was finally starting to wind down. Zira and Crowley’s conversation had quickly gone off the intended track, and they were now animatedly discussing philosophers from various eras.

Crowley, to some surprise, was  _ really _ enjoying Zira’s company. Something about how he animatedly waved his hands as he spoke, the slight wiggle that went with his laughter, everything about him was shaping into a rather nice warm feeling in Crowley’s ribcage that, instead of chasing back like he normally would, he found himself pulling closer as they talked.

“And that’s -” Zira stopped, eyeing the steadily emptying room. “Ah. It seems it’s over.”

“Mhm,” Crowley said, stretching himself out and holding back a slight yawn. Wouldn’t want Zira thinking he was bored with his company.

“We, uh, should probably go. Wouldn’t want to be a disturbance.” He was fidgeting with the edge of his sweater again, lips pursed into a slight frown.

“I mean, them keeping us after on a  _ Friday _ was a disturbance to our  _ routine _ , would be paying back the favor,” Crowley argued.

He laughed a little. “Still, it’s hardly the poor waitstaff’s fault.”

Neither of them went to move out of their seat. “D’you need to call an Uber or something?” Crowley asked. He had stuck to water after his first glass, unwilling to leave his car in the parking lot for any longer than necessary. Zira… had not. “Could give you a ride, if you want.”

“I… I would like that,” he said. “The ride. Not the Uber.”

Crowley grinned and pushed himself to his feet. “Well, then, let’s get outta here.”


End file.
